Monday morning we headed over to the Eiffel Tower and caught Bus 69 which weaves through Paris, so great sightseeing. We ended up at the Pere Lachaise Cementary out in the 20th. I told Pete and Fi that I might get a nose bleed as I have never been past the 8th. Ha!
We had a very non touristy lunch and then wandered around the cemetery. Pete was slightly challenged reading the map of the plots, but we eventually found Edith Piaf’s grave, followed by Jim Morrison.
Then we raced back to the apartment, as John arrived from Milan.
That afternoon we headed to Montmartre and the Sacre Bleu … otherwise known as the Sacre Coeur … good on you John! Once again we were way past the 8th, in the 18th I think … we got on the metro in Paris and got off in Africa. Bloody hell! It is amazing how worldwide, nationalities manage to relocate to a different country but still stick together in one area.
For dinner we managed to jag a great restaurant, Le Potager, in Montmartre. Our only slip up was missing the last metro home and having a huge walk home from Strasborg St Denis. Didn’t kill us though.
Tuesday we stayed in the Marais area … first stop Musee Carnavalet, which we really enjoyed. One of the lessor known museums, which made it all the nicer. For lunch we had a great kebab in the Jewish falafel area. Fi and I visited a fabulous tea shop, Mariage Feres and bought some black tea. Then an unplanned visit to a Nelson Mandela exhibition at the Hotel de Ville.
From there we split up and Fi and I headed to the Place de Vosges where Fi who is a Les Mis tragic, viewed the entrance to Victor Hugo’s apartment. Unfortunately, it was closed, but we consoled ourselves with a lovely cup of tea and beautiful patisserie.
We headed home for a change of clothes and headed over to the 7th for a drink with friends. John was hilarious on the metro … wouldn’t hold on, wobbled all over the place, banged the bottles of wine on the metal poles, he was so bad that a French man jumped up and gave him his seat. Of course Fi, Pete and I were wetting ourselves with laughter.
After drinks we headed over to the 8th to a placed called the Speak Easy. John had met the musicians who were playing there for the week on the plane from Milan. As soon as we arrived, they acknowledged him. We had dinner and they came over for a chat and we were shouted a bottle of champagne. It was a really ritzy nightclub and as it turned out it was the musical director’s birthday … so there were huge celebrations with lots of impromptu acts going on stage singing. We all loved it. We had learnt our lesson and caught a taxi home that night … very drunk!!!!!